AGSTAR Photojournalism

Wednesday, January 25, 2017

How to confront evil?

Here is the question. How do you confront evil? Even in its embrionic stage like this young NAZI simpathyser white supremacists. Should you rise up (or stoop down) to their level and meet them with the same intensity at every stage like Shia Labeouf in the video below? A friend of mine once said the those people (referring to Sandinistas under Ortega in Nicaragua. The other side of the same coin) only understand one thing, violence. And I understood exactly what he meant.
I have no doubt that this young proto-fascist, with his skinny frame and nerd glasses, given the chance, would not hesitate to put a bullet in some minority's brain. Or drive thousands to their deaths, just like milketoast World War II NAZI Adolf Eichmann with his slim frame and horn-rimmed glasses, helped organized the the murder of millions of jews.
I read somewhere that it was easy for the ultra-violent to take over in democratic societies, since those that are cultured, liberal and civilized would try to talk reason and take the democratic road to power and government. By the time they figured out that those guys are playing by different set of rules, it would be too late and they would end up in exile, dead or in a concentration camp.
On the other hand Winston Churchill once said "We have not journeyed across the centuries, across the oceans, across the mountains, across the prairies, because we are made of sugar candy."

So what should you do? How do you confront the coming storm?

Sunday, February 14, 2016

Pope in Mexico

Although stuck in the office all day editing the team's photos of the Pope's visit, I just shot these three form myself.  The Pope was long gone.

After the passing of the Pope, the rush to the toilets. 

The Only Pope photo I got.

Then The moon setting in last night's cold.

Monday, December 15, 2014

Biking back home.


Tuesday, December 02, 2014

Biking to work on Reforma Avenue in Mexico City


Tuesday, March 25, 2014

Growing up Wild

When I was a kid, first of all I was terrible at school. But we lived in the banana fields of Central America. Surrounded by pristine rainforest. My only friend and peer, my neighbor Guillermo Montes de Oca, was from our early age a wild man. He was happiest when we found snakes. He would lasso them and pick them up. We handled them like born again snake charmers and eventually let them loose once we got bored of them. These where not your run of the mill garden snakes. We lived in the tropics and the reptiles where very poisonous. FerDelances, Corals, vipers and even boas. But for us it was just another day in our back yard. His father also a wild man had alligators in his back yard and we loved nothing more than to go see them after school.

Once Guillermo left with his family, I would walk almost every Friday afternoon to visit my other friends that would drive all the way from across the border in Panama to their farm in Costa Rica. I would take off from my house, not telling anybody. Walk all the way to the closest town, Villa Neily, get on the Panamerican highway, cross the Corredores river bridge and eventually make to the Price's farm, where Andy, Dicky, Rex, the towering Mr. Price and their mom (one of my many adoptive banana moms) Doña Tilcia would just welcome me in. We would ride horses, hunt with bb and pellet guns, build dams in the creek, climb the hills, catch fireflies, fish for crawfish, all without adult supervision. All we had to do was to be home for dinner, and we would, usually covered in mud or soaking wet.

Later as I got a little older me and my new neighbors the Cano brothers and Max Vargas would take off every afternoon during weekdays and all day during weekends, we would take off to the Corredores river and the lagoons created in the ballast pits. We would hunt, fish and just have fun. Once I managed to shoot poor Max in the knee with my pellet gun when I tripped and fell over on one of our hunting expeditions. But the code was so strong amongst us that he just chewed me out and since all he got was a nasty welt on his knee we continued and nothing else came from it.

We would chop down balsa trees with our machetes and make rafts to fish in the lagoons. Once during some floods we even picked up the body of a dead pig and brought it home as a prize. It was the only time my mother actually intervened and made us get rid of the carcass. Some time later when the lagoons dried up we where able to catch hundreds of fish with our bare hands as they lay trapped in the shallow water. It was a glorious day.

When we visited the town on Coto 47 on the weekends, even though it was a little more civilized we still managed to find our thrills. We crossed the canals balancing on the pipes that criss crossed them. We ran all over the place as our parents danced the night away at the club. We fired fire crackers at the dancing elders and even managed to launch some stink bombs in the dance hall when I was older.

At Mt. Adams School, I was a terrible student but we always managed to enjoy the place. We would swing from a rope tied to the top branches of a Mango tree on the school grounds. I still remember the adrenaline rush I felt when I finally managed the courage to swing from it.

The actual school swings had metal chains and wooden seats, and I would swing so hard that I thought I was going to be able to loop it around. I never did. But it was a rush. We would go into the creeks to catch crawfish, and run into the drainage pipe that ran under the bridge close to the school. Screaming and yelling like savages just for the pleasure of hearing our voices echoing inside the drainage pipe's walls.

I have to admit that I was not the most adventurous of the lot, but I did ride in the back of my dad's pickup truck, jumped from trees, built forts, rode on giant tractors at the Zamora rice farms, got drenched in rainstorms, got covered in mud, climbed tall trees, brought down wasp nests, trekked alone in the tropical jungle and did many other things as a child growing up that now as a grown man I am the better for it.

Thursday, June 13, 2013

Protesta contra construccion del canal interoceanico en Nicaragua

Saturday, May 04, 2013

Mayorga vs. Tiffer. MMA



Mayorga is one Mean Mean MF. We where to far away for any decent photos but here is a small set. Plus the Tiffer crew crowded the octogon and would not let other people see the action. The fight was surprisingly good, but Tiffer's crew thought they were part of a the WWF or something. People in the crowd threw drinks and water at them. We in the press box cursed them for blocking the already limited view. Anyway it turned out to be a good fight. It turns out Mayorga is a natural for MMA! Will see what happens when he fight somebody his own weight.